


The Rising Sun

by rhoynishnym



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys live, Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell-centric, F/F, F/M, Multi, Not For Rhaegar Fans, Queen Elia Martell, Rhaegar is a douchebag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoynishnym/pseuds/rhoynishnym
Summary: In which Elia Martell is very much an engaged political player. She and her children live, rule and change the fate of Westeros. Starts during Robert's Rebellion, but will continue throughout the years.





	The Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So this is pretty much my first fic ever. he first chapter is maybeee a bit short, but I'm hoping to make up for it in future ones. I've always wanted to write an AU where Elia and her children live so... This is it. Enjoy :)

Her husband had left for Summerhall yet again, not a fortnight past, leaving her to her own devices on Dragonstone. As always, he had named her castellan before his departure ( _if he hopes this will make me forgive him, he is sorely mistaken_ )– and obviously Ser Ambrose Celtigar, who had been castellan during King Aerys’s youth, had been displeased at having been replaced with a Dornish woman, regardless of the fact that said woman was a Princess, and the future Queen.

                As such, the first thing Elia did was send the man to King’s Landing. Rhaegar himself had suggested as much, since Celtigar was undoubtedly loyal to Aerys- but as always, her princely husband had been too preoccupied by his studies to send him away himself. Or _too cowardly to do it_ , Elia thought, though in her head the words were spoken by a voice which sounded remarkably like Oberyn’s.

                For all his talk of the Realm’s safety, and of deposing his father, Elia’s husband remained strangely passive. The only time when he’d even lifted a finger to do anything was when he’d crowned the Stark girl, and that, well...

                Elia had never exactly loved her husband. She hadn’t expected to- her heart had been given to another, long ago, and with that man it would stay, until the end of both their days, in spite of all the heartbreak, and the distance put between them by marriages and white cloaks. But she had somewhat liked Rhaegar. She had found a kind of companionship with him, one that was pleasant enough, one that made her life as Princess easier. Their couplings had never been passionate, and although she would not admit it to anyone save Ashara and Larra, her husband was much lacking when it came to the marriage bed, but she loved their children – _her_ children - more than anything. She had thought they were partners, until he rode past her and stopped in front of Lyanna Stark, crown of blue roses at the tip of his lance.

                She had been carrying Aegon at the time, too.

                She hadn’t raged. Not like Ashara and Oberyn, who had both been boiling with fury. She had remained impassive, unspeaking, cold. She would not give anyone at court the satisfaction of calling her a petulant child, no. She was to be Queen. At the feast she had even smiled and danced.

                “But if you dance with her now, dear husband, you will not live to see this child born.” She had whispered to Rhaegar then- and he had not even looked at the girl for the rest of the night, though her large, pleading eyes kept watching him from the crowds.

                She knew, however, that he would not give up the pursuit of his beloved prophecy- so when she received the ravens- one from Riverrun, and one from King’s Landing- she was almost resigned. What stopped her breath in her lungs wasn’t that her husband had vanished with his little child-bride, no- it was that Arthur had vanished along with him.

                She’d tried to show no emotion when she’d read the letters, but now, retired to her chambers, all she could do was collapse on her bed, and stare at the carvings n the wooden canopy.

                “Traitor.” Larra said, her voice sharp and poisonous. Most of Elia’s ladies in waiting were attending to their duties around the Dragonstone Court, to which Elia herself had assigned them, but Larra Blackmont, ever-faithful Larra, had been with her when she’d read the letters, and she’d taken a break under the guise of feeling faint, so she could keep her Princess company.

                “He is sworn to the crown, Larra. He has no choice but to follow.” Elia’s throat was dry, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

                “He very much did, you and I both know this. Elia...” She moved over to the bed, and sat down, reaching for Elia’s hand. “No man has ever been worthy of you, my Princess.”

                “Oberyn would say much the same”, was all Elia could manage. Before she could say anything more, the doors opened, and Ashara stepped in, looking as though she had run all the way across the castle. Three moons with child, she was starting to show ever so slightly under the many layers of velvet she was wearing. Elia knew she ought to send her away soon, to spare her the prying eyes and wagging tongues of the northerners, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with her most trusted friend just yet.

                “I came as soon as I heard.” Elia sat up, and Ashara tackled her with her embrace. The embrace of the sister she had never had. For a long moment-or was it a year? Was it more?- neither of them spoke. Feeling Ashara’s arms around her made her feel calm, and warm, and safe, and loved- maybe for the first time in months. Oh, how it would hurt to be away from her!

                When, at last, Ashara spoke again, her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been crying. “I’ll kill him”, she said, and then more quietly, she whispered for only Elia to hear: “I’ll kill them both.”

                Despite everything, Elia felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Why, dearest Ash, I think that might just be treason.”

                The laughter was faint, but it was there.

                They sat like that for a while, she and Ashara and Larra, as the sky outside darkened with dusk and storm both. Inside, they were safe, if only for this one moment in time. Inside they were warm, nestled among furs and cushions. Inside, Elia could pretend all was well, if only for an hour.

                If only an hour would last forever.

                “So what will you do?”

                Larra’s question came out of nowhere.

                “Larra, let her rest. She can think of what she will do on the morrow. Can’t you see the toll this is taking on her?” Oh, sweet Ash, always trying to protect her.

                Elia let the silence linger just a moment longer. She had had time to think, and she knew what had to come first: Rhaenys and Aegon, their future, their status, their wellbeing. But she needed to do this for herself, as much as for them. All her life, she had always done her best to please others, she had been Mother’s perfect daughter, Doran’s perfect sister, Dorne’s perfect Princess, she had tried to be Rhaegar’s perfect wife. But no more. Elia Martell was done being a demure and obedient little thing.

                “I think Larra’s right. I ought to do something.” She threw away the coverlets and rose from the bed. “And I shall start by writing.”

                “Oh?” Ashara raised an eyebrow.

                “Two letters to Riverrun, to Hoster Tully and Rickard Stark. Two to the Eyrie- for lord Arryn and lord Baratheon. One for Doran, one for Oberyn.” _One for Tywin Lannister_ , she didn’t say. She walked towards the window as she spoke, and drew back the heavy curtains. Outside, the storm had calmed, and she could glimpse a faint outline of the moon through the clouds. “One for Mace Tyrell, I suppose. A few for Houses of the Crownlands and Reach- it is past time I took more ladies to assist me. Especially now...” she took a deep breath. _You have to do this, Elia._ She turned towards Ashara. “Especially now that you shall be leaving me to visit your family in Starfall.”

                Ashara’s mouth opened in silent protest, her eyebrows forming into her formidable glare.

                “Elia, you can’t. _You can’t_!” she sounded almost a child, and not a grown woman of two-and-twenty.

                “I have to”, Elia sighed. “And I promise I shall summon you back once it’s safe.” _Once that madman no longer sits the throne._

                Ashara shook her head. “I want to be here. With you. For you. We’re sisters, right?” there were tears starting to form in her violet eyes.

                “We’re sisters”,  Elia nodded. “Which is why I cannot let any harm come to you. Gossip and queer looks will be hard enough to endure, but there is a war brewing, Ashara. I expect I’ll be summoned to King’s Landing any day now, and you must leave Dragonstone when that happens. If not for yourself, then for your child”- she lowered her voice then -“ You know how the King is- if he gets even an inkling as to who the child’s father might be...”

                At her words, Ashara instinctively put her hand over her belly. Elia, as well as Larra, knew her child would be half-wolf, but neither of them dared utter Brandon Stark’s name out loud. Aerys had been mistrustful of Starks even before the fateful tourney, but now it would be ten times worse, and if any word of it would get to him, that would be sure to doom Ashara.

                “So will we go to King’s Landing, when the King summons you?” asked Larra.

                Elia thought about it for a while. Her plan was hinging on too many what-ifs. If she started writing all her letters now, if she were to have them sent out by the morrow, and if she were to get a swift response- if, if, if, and only then she’d be able to refuse the King’s summons. And that was without taking into account any of his loyalists that were still on Dragonstone, any catspaws that the man (or the Spider) would send after her and her children. No, the danger was too big. But if she went, then Aerys would hold her, and Rhaenys and Aegon, hostage, and besides there would be no way she could continue to safely correspond with the Lords from the Red Keep.

                “Elia?” Larra asked again, since Elia hadn’t answered.

                A strange wave of determination overtook her.

                “I have no intention to move from this island until this nonsense is over and done with. Now, will you help me draft my letters?”

                Her friends rose from the bed, and the three of them proceeded to her solar together.


End file.
